Liam Hughes stood at the microphone and spelt words faster than most people could say them. He was a spelling machinegun, firing out letters in deadly bursts, as two judges from the Collins English Dictionary scribbled furiously, trying to keep up.

His two team-mates stood behind him, safely out of his line of fire, as he spelt kleptomaniac, cytoplasm, vestigial, paraplegic, cyanide. Twice his colleague Sophie Gray, 12, leapt to the microphone, to spell scalene and chagrin, before stepping back a pace and allowing Liam, 12, to spray out letters to words that few 12-year-olds have in their armoury: analgesic, camphor, ichthyology — all present and correct.

This was the quick-fire round in the final of The Times Spelling Bee Championship in London yesterday, a place where heroes were made. Liam and his team from Welland Park Community College, Leicestershire, gained 81 points without pausing for breath and shot into the lead.

But there were others in the auditorium with flawless pronunciation and minds as fast as computer spellcheckers. Richard Taylor, 12, spelt out the words reflexively, his eyes rolling back to stare up past his blonde fringe towards the mottled ceiling of the auditorium. His fans in the theatre, fellow pupils from Oundle School, Cambridgeshire, shouted his name.

Two girls waved a paper banner that declared “We love Ricky T”. One boy said gravely: “He’s one of the most popular boys because of how clever he is.”

“He likes silence,” said another. “He says we are bullying him when we talk.” A girl beside him shouted: “He’s a walking encyclopaedia!”

Among the screaming pupils were nervous parents and teachers, some unable to watch as their charges stood on stage and spelt as if possessed by the spirit of the late Richard Whiteley, formerly host of Channel 4’s quiz show Countdown. Jill Cavan, 45, stared at the floor as her daughter, Isobel, one of the last three contestants standing in the first heat, spelt out guillotine, soirée and extraordinaire. “She’s pulled it off!” said Caroline Lane, her teacher at Bishop Rawstorne Church of England Language College, Lancashire, after Isobel nailed verisimilitude.

Vivek Jain, an orthopaedic surgeon stroked his moustache as his son, Samyak, 11, from Bishop Wordsworth Community College, Wiltshire, was asked to spell sarcophagus and roared with surprise when he got it right. This was the culmination of hours of practice in the Jain living room. “I don’t know where he gets it from,” he said. Later, in the break before the final heat, there was time to impart some last words of advice.

“Life is all about risk,” he said. “If you lose, so what? Life is full of risk. On the hard words you don’t know, say pass. The important thing is to say as many as you can.” Samyak did not disappoint him. He knows the meaning of hesitation, and spelt it, but he never did on stage.

Still it was not quite enough to secure the crown. That was taken by the team from St Martin’s School, Middlesex, thanks to a phenomenal performance by Jonah Surkes, 12, in the quickfire round, a spelling tour de force that surpassed even that of the great Ricky T.

Returning to his seat afterwards with his team mates Dylan Amin and Prahalad Prasad, he put his success down to an intensive training regime. Ever since his team entered the first round of the Spelling Bee, they have met every lunch time to practise. Jonah bought the book How to Spell Like a Champion. “I carry that around with me everywhere I go,” he said.

In fact, their victory was not quite assured; a few teams were left to play. Gordon Hao, their reserve member and “logistics man”, made furious calculations in his notepad to see if anyone could beat them.

“Don’t count your chickens,” he said, as the others began composing a victory chant incorporating their initials: “G-D-J-P we have won the Spelling Bee,” they chanted.

Jonah was working out what he might say in television interviews. When he finishes university, he would like to be a businessman. “Or a photographer,” he said.

Dylan thought he would be a surgeon. “I will be a lexicographer,” said Prahalad. “No wait! A lawyer. I will do lexicography in my spare time.” A short time afterwards their victory was confirmed and they trooped off to face the cameras.

Jonah’s mother Andrea was in tears. “We’ve had a dictionary in the car for the last few months,” she said. “He just loves spelling.”

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